The Letters
by Caera1996
Summary: Fills abigail89's prompt: "Dear Bones – I'm bad at this sort of thing…" (for the Jim and Bones Love is in the Air Challenge)


**Title:** The Letters  
**Author:** Caera1996  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Prompt:** abigail89's "Dear Bones – I'm bad at this sort of thing…"  
(Jim_and_Bones Love is in the Air Challenge)  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** None  
**Word Count:** 2,244  
**A/N:** So, two years ago, Jim_and_Bones hosted another challenge that was specifically letter-writing. I participated in that one, too. And because I always felt like just the letter to Jim from "his secret admirer" wasn't enough, I finished the story, using the prompt as the inspiration to get to the ending that should've always been.

* * *

Captain, Confidant, Friend –

I'm actually not sure how to address this letter – each of those titles is an apt description for you now. And let me tell you, when I first met you, I never thought that would be the case, not with those words anyway. Honestly, I thought (at first) that you were an arrogant prick. Picking up women was a game, bar fights were a hobby, and you were too damn cocky for your own good. You were always good for a distraction, but that was it. I wasn't about to let myself become dependent on someone like you. You weren't the dependable type.

But, somehow, and I'm not even sure when it happened, or how, that changed. I think it happened slowly, over time. We kept getting thrown together, and I started to realize that a lot of things I thought I knew about you – things I assumed, along with everyone else – were just a smokescreen. And the person underneath all that smoke was a different person all together. Turns out you were actually the dependable type.

Imagine my surprise.

You've changed so much from when we first met. You're still so young, but you're not the kid on the shuttlecraft anymore. You've grown…became the type of person anyone would be lucky to have as a friend, the type of person who sets an example by words and actions, the type of leader who not only bears the rank of Captain, but who lives it with everything he is.

Now don't go getting a big head over this. I'm not saying it to inflate your ego. I'm saying all this because every now and then I get the sense that you still feel like you're not living up to a standard set for you by a man you've never met. And while it's not necessarily a bad thing to continue to strive for something… we all have expectations we're trying to live up to…I wanted you to know that you've met that standard in my eyes, and in the eyes of your crew. And now _you're_ the standard. You're _my_ standard. I'm a better person because of you. I was lost and didn't even realize it until you found me.

But I have a new problem now. Captain, confidant, friend….while all of these are still true, I've realized that you've become something more to me, and that maybe this friendship we have isn't finished developing yet. I don't know for sure if you feel the same, and I'm not exactly sure how to go about asking. I've never been good at this kind of thing – and as you used to take great pleasure in teasing me about the fact that I never had a date when you need an actual datebook to keep all of your engagements in order – I'm sure that comes as no surprise. So, I decided that if you're going to indulge the crew's asinine desire to observe a holiday that barely passes as such even back home, I may as well put the opportunity to use.

You probably know who this letter is from by now, so the ball is in your court – do with it what you will, but know that your friendship is more important to me than anything else that may or may not be for us.

I'm lucky to have you in my life, and I just wanted you to know that.

Your (not so) Secret Admirer

P.S. If you don't know who this is, I want to make damn sure I'm there when you go to talk to the person you think wrote it, because _that_ is going to be one _hilarious_ conversation.

* * *

Jim felt himself reddening as he finished the letter, even as he chuckled to himself as he read that last. It would be a hilarious conversation – he could just see himself bumbling through it – but he knew who wrote this letter. He didn't have any doubt about it. His heart was racing and he had to take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, a surreal feeling making him question for a moment if this was really happening.

He just…didn't know what to think.

Some of the things in this letter…it was like Bones could see into his heart and soul, could recognize all those secret little worries and doubts. And that he still cared so much, and was willing to _tell_ him that. Jim could appreciate the courage that took.

_But that's Bones,_ Jim thought. _He's the most courageous person I know._ His eyes drifted over the letter again, feeling the words as much as reading them this time, feeling the purity of the intent behind it. Even though Bones was laying everything out there, he understood that it might be…harder for Jim, and he left him an out. That was enough to prove to Jim how much he cared. In that moment, his expression was soft and unguarded, as he imagined what it would be like to have what Bones wanted to give, and give to Bones in return. It was…

Suddenly, someone laughed loudly and Jim, lost in the possibilities of the words he held, startled. He flushed again, and quickly folded the letter. He'd had no idea what Cook had tucked under his plate, but if he'd known it was going to be this intensely personal, he would've waited to read it instead of while he ate in the mess.

Well, he'd intended to eat. Picking up his untouched tray, he guiltily brought it back up. Cook took one look at it and leveled a glare at Jim.

"Sorry," Jim said. "I'm sure it was delicious, but…."

Cook waved him off. "Got busy reading, did you?" she asked. "I'll send something to your Ready Room."

Jim looked down at the woman who had taken it upon herself to make sure he ate at least one vegetable a day.

"Did you know about this?" he asked, raising the folded letter to her eye level.

"Know about what?" she countered, completely straight-faced, except for her twinkling eyes. "I just do what I'm told."

Jim snorted a laugh at that. "Of course," he said. "Thanks for passing it on."

Later that day, after his shift was over, Jim had a decision to make. He was supposed to meet with Bones for dinner, but he felt nervous. He'd read that letter…there was no way he couldn't think about the things Bones had written. And he wanted to talk about it, because he felt it too. He just…couldn't say it. Couldn't risk it. And he felt completely exposed, the way Bones talked about him. Not in a bad way, not at all, but it was overwhelming to know what Bones saw in him and felt about him. Especially because it was _Bones_.

When they'd first met, Jim had spent most of his time trying to first impress him, until he realized Bones was nothing like the other people who were so easily influenced by his quick smile and flirty attitude. Then he tried just being himself and befriending him. To Jim's surprise, that worked. And so slowly, Bones got to see who he really was. And now, despite or because of that, he'd written that letter and given Jim what he'd wanted for so long, but never had the courage to ask for.

A chance.

And he couldn't screw it up. He couldn't. So, making up his mind, he sent a quick message to Bones' PADD indicating that he'd been detained and he'd try to catch up with him later. Bones replied quickly, understanding and used to things like that. He didn't make any mention of the letter at all.

Then, Jim decided to follow Bones' lead. He knew he wouldn't be able to get it out without sounding like an idiot. But he could write.

Going to his bookshelf, he took out an old-fashioned letter-writing box that contained some paper and pens. He'd found it in an antique store, loved it, and to his surprised delight found it wrapped on his bed that Christmas, from Bones.

Settling at his desk, his mind racing with everything his heart wanted to say, he forced himself to stop and think before putting pen to paper, not even sure he could do this and say what he needed to without messing up. After a few moments, his bottom lip nervously caught in his teeth, he started writing.

Leonard nodded to a crew member as he made his way to his quarters. It was later than usual for him, but since Jim ended up unavailable for dinner, he'd accepted an invitation to play cards with some guys from Engineering and Scotty. As entertaining as the conversation and games were, he'd hardly noticed the passing time. He was sure he'd feel it tomorrow, though.

Entering his quarters, he called for lights and pulled his tunic over his head, and then the undershirt as well. Carrying them into the partitioned off sleeping area, he dropped them on the bed…then froze. There was a folded piece of paper on his pillow.

Swallowing around a suddenly dry mouth, he immediately realized that Jim wasn't "detained". He never used that word. He always said there were "upper assholes who wanted to talk to him". Jim wasn't detained tonight…he was buying time.

Leonard knew that Jim had read his letter. Cook said that he had, and he trusted her. And this was his response. Staring at that folded piece of paper, he was caught between desperately wanting to know what it said, and so scared that the response wouldn't be what he hadn't allowed himself to believe was possible. Slowly, he sat on the edge of the bed, and then taking a deep breath, reached for the paper. Unfolding it, he practically held his breath as he read.

* * *

Dear Bones-

I'm bad at this sort of thing…yeah, hold in your surprise…but I just couldn't think of a better way to respond to your letter than by writing my own. I don't think I could say everything I wanted to face to face. Not yet, anyway.

I can barely write it…mostly because I can't believe it…but here goes.

You've been more to me than just a friend for almost as long as I've known you. You talk about meeting a standard…the only one that ever mattered to me was what you thought of me. The fighting and flirting and fooling around with whoever…that was me until I realized how much I wanted you to…like me. To care about me.

You're the first friend I've ever had, Bones. The only person who never wanted something from me. I didn't get it at first. I thought for so long you had a catch. Everyone always does. But you never did. Even now, even with everything you said in that letter, there's still no catch.

We've both changed a lot. I'm not that kid, and you're not the same person you were either. I think we're both better because of each other.

I love you for that.

I love you for you, and I want to know what else might be for us too. So…I guess the ball's in your court now, huh?

….If you want, I'm not detained anymore,  
Jim

P.S. I always knew it was you. Even before we said it.

* * *

Leonard's heart soared as he read Jim's letter. It was more than he dared hope for…that Jim might feel the same way he did. He stood, fumbling back into his shirts, getting to Jim the only thing on his mind. Grabbing the letter, he left his quarters, walking quickly as his blood coursed through him. Before getting to Jim's door, he slowed down, made himself relax. Jim had written a letter instead of just coming to see him…maybe because he wasn't entirely sure. Maybe because he was nervous.

Not many people knew Jim well. They assumed the brash, overly confident, intelligent young man was exactly who he seemed to be. But he wasn't. Not at all. He just hid his insecurities. But it hadn't taken Leonard long to realize that Jim had more layers to him than just that outer shell. He sometimes struggled with self-doubt, and a lack of self-worth, and he got nervous. And keeping all that in mind, Leonard waited until some of the frantic joy he was feeling was under control before signaling his presence outside Jim's door.

When the door slid open for him, Jim was standing there. They locked eyes for a moment, then Jim's gaze drifted down to the hand holding the letter. Without looking back up, and without saying a word, Jim stepped back in invitation, and Leonard stepped inside.

A flush spread across Jim's cheeks and down his neck as he looked back up at Leonard, his eyes clear and bright and holding so much promise. Leonard smiled slightly, touched by the uncharacteristic and vulnerable display of feeling.

"Got your letter," Leonard said. Apparently unable to find his voice, Jim just nodded. Leonard reached out to him, hesitated, and then followed through, doing what he wanted as he gently cupped Jim's cheek. Jim closed his eyes and as if drawn by some other force, moved into Leonard's space, and then they were holding each other, hugging, fitting together like they'd always belonged in the other's arms.

Bones sighed happily, and Jim knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be.


End file.
